


Mayhem in Moreauville

by MistLaFey



Category: Original Work
Genre: Car Accidents, Curses hexes and black magic, Definitely demons, Evil Main Character, Hospitals, I might add a protagonist eventually, I'm Bad At Tagging, Krestel is purposely spelled that way, Murder, My First AO3 Post, Original work - Freeform, Originally a school project, Small-town setting, The first chapter was its own thing, Violence, Violence for the sake of violence, Witchcraft, doubtful tho, realtors, slashings, stabbings, then I got bored and continued it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 18:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20679674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistLaFey/pseuds/MistLaFey
Summary: When Krestel Monroe arrives in a town, people begin to die. This is no coincidence, as Krestel has made a demonic pact for immortality. In order to maintain her immortal life, she must claim the lives of others. Krestel is not only willing to do this, but very pleased with her task. She has lived for hundreds of years, purely to cause mayhem, and now Mayhem has come to Moreauville.





	Mayhem in Moreauville

A proper story begins when a mysterious stranger appears and everything begins to go wrong. 

Krestel has never been a proper girl, but she is a proper stranger.

She arrived in a small town called Moreauville, Louisiana on May 13th. The moment she arrived she knew it would be a perfect town to cause a little mayhem. The population hovered at about 900 people. It was toward the middle of the state. Just far enough from a big city to practice a little black magic, but not so far away she couldn’t restock her supplies easily.

The clomping of Doc Martens sounded on the pavement. The girl wearing them, Krestel, was clad completely in black. The only exception to this gothic color scheme being her jade-bright eyes. Her long hair swished behind her in a cloud of black. Her hands were covered in black silky gloves, even in the southern May heat. A black backpack was slung over her shoulder. Only her pale face was exposed to the sun. 

She was new. Nothing was ever new in Moreauville. 

Silver saw her walking down the main road as she drove the beat up, rusty old Chevy back into town. Krestel walked slowly, as though she knew exactly where she was going. Regardless of that, Silver pulled the truck to the side of the road and leaned out the window. “Hey,” she called, “Want a ride into town?”

Silver was blonde and petite in her cut off jeans and red tank top. She was everything Krestel was not. She’d grown up in Moreauville, lived there for almost 20 years. It was only now when she was attending Chamberlain college in New Orleans for nursing that she had ever left. College was still close enough to home, so she drove back in to visit every weekend. She had never practiced black magic, and she did not enjoy causing mischief. Silver was a healer, she wanted to help people. But for as much as she wanted to, she never saw herself living or working in a bigger city after college ended. She’d probably take her degree and get a job over at the little clinic on Couvillion Street.

The dark girl smiled slyly, and nodded. She climbed into the passenger side of the truck, pulling the seat belt over her shoulder.

“What’s your name?” Silver asked, pulling the truck back onto the barely paved road.

“Krestel,”  Her voice was silky with a touch of danger hidden behind it like a sleeping snake. 

“Nice to meet ya, Krestel. My name’s Sylvia. Most people call me Silver though, on account of my nails.” Silver held out her hand showing Krestel the sharp nails she kept painted with a homemade polish. 

“Pleasure, Silver.”

“What brings you to Moreauville, Krestel? Not a big town, and you don’t seem like a small town type.”

Krestel smirked in the passenger seat, but she didn’t respond. As they drove Silver continued to talk. She mentioned pointless things like music, what people did for fun, who to avoid in town and the like until they reached Main street. There were lots of little shops around , and a small bed and breakfast if Krestel didn’t have someplace to stay yet. It would be fine to drop her off here. She would be safe.

The girl called Silver liked to babble. It was one of the first things Krestel noticed about her, and after that it was the nails painted with a mixture of silver mica and baking powder based glue. She likely brewed that at home as well. There was nothing about her that made Krestel want to spare her life.

The car ride into town seemed as good a time as any to begin causing mayhem, so of course as Krestel was sliding out of the old Chevy she dropped a cursed coin under the seat. 

“Thank you for the lift, Silver. I’ll be seeing you around.” She slammed the car door shut and walked toward the tiny Bed and Breakfast Silver pointed out as they pulled to a stop on Main street. The tiny building was painted pale pink, and tiger lilies were growing wild around the front porch. Spanish moss hung from the joshua trees that lined the streets.

It was a pretty little town. By the time Krestel was done with this town it wouldn’t be so pretty anymore.

Silver thought about Krestel during her drive home. The dark girl was odd and out of place here, but even so Silver hoped she wasn’t just passing through. There really was nobody interesting in Moreauville, and a stranger coming into town would be the most excitement until the Fourth of July picnic. 

Silver pulled to a stop on the south entrance of Sybil’s Crossing, and turned her right blinker on to turn down North Bayou de Glaises road. She was lost in her thoughts and when the red light turned green she put her foot on the accelerator without looking. She never saw Old Man Wilson’s midlife crisis mobile coming down the North entrance of the crossing. He was pushing ninety and had no way to stop. 

Krestel smiled from her second floor window in the pink bed and breakfast. She heard the squeal of tires and the crunch of metal, and then the cursed coin appeared back in her hand. 

An ambulance whipped into the intersection of Sybil’s crossing. The EMTs jumped out of the back and pulled two stretchers out. They carefully gathered up Silver’s broken body and placed her on one, then wrested Old Man Wilson out of his car. The paramedics took pulses and one, shaking his head, zipped a black bag closed around the old man. They gathered both gurneys into the ambulance and took off toward the hospital.

Krestel watched all this from her second story window in the bed and breakfast, grinding her teeth the whole time. She grabbed her bag as the ambulance pulled away and began her walk to the hospital.

Silver was in a hospital bed, unconscious and attached to an IV. There was a pulse monitor beeping in the corner. Krestel stood outside the room, looking in from the behind the glass. She flipped the coin into the air and caught it again. Into the air, catch. Air, catch. 

Stop.

The coin hit the ground with a loud ping, only to be drowned out by the long beep of the heart monitor. Krestel picked up the coin as it began to roll out the doorway.

Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, shouting about a crash cart. One nurse, a girl with curly dark hair and deeply tanned skin, bumped into Krestel. She apologized quickly and rushed into the room. 

Krestel smiled and forgave her, slipping the coin into the pocket of the nurses' yellow scrubs.

The commotion seemed louder, then all at once the noise stopped.

“Call it,” a gruff voice sighed.

“Time of death, 7:42 pm,” the nurse in yellow replied. 

Krestel grinned savagely and turned away. Oh, yes. She would like this little town. All the mayhem she could cause sparkled in her eyes as she made her way back to the pink bed and breakfast.


End file.
